


pieces

by mountainhome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountainhome/pseuds/mountainhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's trying to keep Cas from nightmares while he's facing his own</p>
            </blockquote>





	pieces

Pieces   
One day after, he finds them.   
He doesn't expect a happy greeting, but it still stings when Dean greets him with a "Where the hell have you been?"  
He thought Dean would have known how hard travel is when you're tied to the ground and feel like you've been chewed up and spit out.   
"I had to hitchhike." He doesn't wait for an answer, he simply walks out and into the spare room he stayed at last time the Winchesters found him. It's not luxurious, it's not big, but the bed welcomes him and he falls asleep within minutes, half marvelling in the strange feeling of sleepiness pulling him under, half hoping that dreams won't find him.   
They do.   
He sees his brothers and sisters slamming into the Earth, severed from their home and damned to Earth. He can feel the absence of wings as though it's a physical being. No matter how hard he shuts his eyes, no matter how he screams into his pillow and begs for mercy, there is no escape. The faces of those he killed, the ones he betrayed, immortalised in their final moment. He cannot run from them, he cannot turn away. No god to save him down here. For the first time, he is utterly alone.   
Five hours of sleep and Castiel decides he's had enough. He leaves his room and stumbles into the dark living room. It's quiet.   
He sits at the table until Dean and Sam wake up.   
Dean is the first. He stumbles out of the room to the left and goes right for the coffee machine. Cas watches him with mild fascination. Over three decades of waking up, and Dean still needs to drag himself out of bed. But Cas knows better than to think he had a good night's sleep. He knows that Dean has his own demons to face in the night. It makes him wish he could help in some way, simply lift them with a touch. But he knows how helpless he is. And it makes him feel absolutely worthless. How is he supposed to help when all he is is a broken shell, nothing but a weak human. Less than that.   
Dean pours himself a cup of coffee and joins Cas. Tired eyes, slow movements.   
"Your siblings... have you found any of them?"  
"Not yet. I can't seem to..." Words failed him. What he wanted to say was that he felt cut off in the worst way. He wanted to say that he kept waiting for someone to call for him, but there was nothing but silence and the vision of thousands of them falling, their wings torn off, who knows how many dead.   
"I'm sorry." The words hung in the air. Cas didn't know what to say back. I'm sorry too because you've been through so much more than me. I'm sorry because I couldn't stop abandoning you and you kept taking me back in. I'm sorry too, Dean.   
Again, he said nothing. He sat and wished he had coffee but didn't ask.   
Sam came later. He was in worse shape than either of them. Since coming so close to death again, he seemed to have lost the need to keep himself groomed. His hair was everywhere and he was wrapped in a blanket that dragged on the floor behind him.   
"Morning Dean... Cas." Dean took his coming as reason to get up and start busying himself with the kitchen. Breakfast. From the ingredients Dean was pulling out, it looked like it was going to be pancakes. Dean Winchester cooking pancakes. The world must be coming to an end.   
They didn't say much. Whatever there was to say, was swallowed in attempt to seem strong. They all let the others be. For now, that's what they needed.   
As the day passed, Cas fell into the rhythm of the bunker with ease. He tried to draw out the day as long as possible, fighting the sleepiness that threatened to overtake him until he couldn't stand it anymore and he ended up falling asleep on the couch, still wearing his trenchcoat. It didn't take long for memories to find him and colour his dreams red. This time, when he woke up in a cold sweat clutched a blanket he hasn't fallen asleep with, Dean was there, whispering and stroking his back in a vain attempt to calm him down. Weak and sleepy still, Cas leaned into his touch and tried once again to find sleep, no matter how torturous. He felt so painfully human.   
When morning came, Dean and Sam were already up, talking about some case they might get on, one concerning a stabbing. Cas half expected an explanation from Dean for last night, but he wouldn't meet his eyes. Sam promised they'd be back by the nighttime, then with hesitation, invited Cas to come along. He silently declined with a shake of his head.   
That day, he spent exploring the bunker. He halfheartedly tried out the shooting range, but soon realised he had little to no talent when it came to firearms. When he came to Dean's room, he was careful not to misplace anything. The bed still wasn't made. He almost wanted to make it for him, but it didn't feel like his place. He didn't want to leave yet, though. So he paced around the small room, straightening out the few pictures he had, of him and Sam, of his parents, of all of them- Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Dean and Cas. When he left, he didn't want to sleep in his own room tonight. So he walked back to the living room and laid down on the couch. Even with some of the lights still on, he found it easy to sleep there.   
When he woke up, Dean was asleep in the chair adjacent to the couch. He wasn't sleeping easy. Cas watched as his face tensed, followed by his hands balling into fists. Worried, Cas got up to stand over him. If he was still an angel, he could have saved Dean from his tormentors. He could ease him into a peaceful sleep, keep him from harming himself. But Cas was just a human now, and he was about as powerful as a butterfly.   
As Dean winced and grasped for something that wasn't there, Cas gave up. He sat down on the arm of the chair and tried to do what Dean had done- patting him, whispering that it was okay, everything was fine, he was there. Finally, Dean settled down and seemed to calm. Even then, Cas kept his hand on him, stroking the bristly hair on top of his head, tracing unintelligible shapes on his arm. It comforted Cas more than anything, and he only stopped when Dean stirred and he jumped back, resolving to sit back on the couch and wait for him to wake up.   
Waking up took Dean a long time, starting with stretching, another ten minutes of rest, then blurry eyes seeing Cas and rising out from the chair.  
"You were having trouble sleeping," Cas said quietly.   
"Cas, I always have trouble sleeping. Don't worry about it." Dean walked over to the kitchen and poured himself the usual cup of coffee. This time, Cas waited until he was finished, then poured himself what was left in the machine.   
"So... did you find anything on the case?" Conversation is good, Cas told himself. Conversation is normal, unlike trying to chase away your entirely platonic and not at all strangely attractive friend's nightmares for them.   
"Not much. We almost got tied up with the cops for trespassing, but they believed the badges and suits and let us go. Apparently this chick was into some weird shit though, her house was filled with Satanic symbols."  
"That's never a good sign." Cas took an experimental sip of the coffee. It wasn't as good as a restaurant's, but it was warm and tasted homemade, somehow, even though he knew it had been made by a machine.   
Maybe it was because the bunker was starting to feel like home. Not that it should. He wasn't going to stay forever. Just until he felt strong enough to go out and look for the remainder of his siblings. The bunker was a temporary home, and he couldn't forget that.   
This time, Cas decided to come along. He sat in the back of the Impala for an entire ride for what must have been maybe the fourth time in five or so years. Dean was playing an old Metallica CD and singing along, which made Sam laugh. Strangely enough, Cas didn't mind his singing, although it was loud amd offkey. It was some kind of endearing. He found himself watching Dean, purely for the happiness it brought. He didn't quite realise until Dean turned and winked at him, which made him feel better than it should have. It took Dean a moment to realise what he had done, and as he whipped his head back amd continued singing, Cas could see a faint blush on his cheeks, and it was all some kind of surreal, but he felt happier than he had in weeks.   
He let his eyes wander over to Sam, who was starting to sing along. He was already starting to feel better, Cas could tell. The old light was returning to his eyes, however dim. Maybe Sam was just so numb to death and pain that he simply shut it out. Cas envied that.   
When they arrived, he stayed to the back. Last time he had tried to get into the action, it hadn't exactly worked out.   
Dean and Sam play cops and by the end of the day, it's determined that the girl had made a deal and it ended recently, therefore causing her death. Business as usual. Once again, Cas wondered why he spent so much time helping the brothers with their 'jobs'.   
When they come home, Cas retreats to his room. He doesn't know why this being human exhausts him so much, but he can sympathise with the brothers for constantly taking nap breaks. Although hungry, he can't bring himself to meet them for dinner. Maybe it was the fact that Dean's domestic habits were strange to Cas, they contradicted the man he knew him to be- strong, ruthless, violent. Yet he had known Dean had another side to him- the one that put saving people above hunting, one that had taken Cas in again and again, no matter how many times he left. Cas would spend a lifetime in debt to him.   
Sleep came and despite the happy moments of the day, Cas wasn't naive enough to think dreams would stay away. This time, it was the faces of his siblings that had died at his hands. He watched their eyes go dark as he stood, motionless, still gripping the blade. Part of him was screaming for help, trying to make him move to stop the blood, stop their deaths, reverse what he had done. But the other part of him, the one in control, just stood. What was done was done. None of them could be brought back.   
Cas woke up after one short hour of sleep to find Dean there again, whispering in his ear softly, holding him. He didn't speak, he just sighed and settled into him, feeling completely human in the best way.   
Morning found them still together, Dean dead asleep yet still loosely holding Cas, breathing deeply. When Cas woke up, he felt more content than he had in ages. Dean's heartbeat was only inches away, and it felt like Cas could spend his life just feeling the rhythm of it, the simple sign that Dean was here and real, with him. He wanted to wait for Dean to wake up on his own, but he couldn't resist. He tugged at his sleeve, then resolved to let him sleep for a few more minutes. He rose slowly, letting the cold morning air seep in without Dean's heat. That's another thing about humans- they're always so warm, even when it was below freezing out and their skin was raised in goosebumps. Cas had observed this before, but it hadn't mattered until he experienced it firsthand.   
Even after only a few days, Cas already knew the way life in the bunker worked- being the first one up, it was his duty to get the coffee machine working and wait for the others. Sam was awake first. It was obvious he hadn't gotten much sleep, his eyes were tired. He walked in, nodded to Cas, and poured himself a cup of orange juice.   
"So, what's the plan for today?" asked Cas, taking a small sip of the coffee, then almost spit it out. It was far too hot.   
Sam shrugged. "Not much. I mean, there's not much we can do about that last case anymore, so I was thinking... maybe we could visit Charlie?" Cas had heard of Charlie, but had yet to meet her.   
"That sounds nice." As Cas stared into his cup, willing it to cool, he heard footsteps coming from the direction of his room. He looked up to see Dean walking out, running his hands through his hair and making it stick up. As soon as he saw Cas, his cheeks turned light pink and he visibly fought off some unknown expression, one that looked suspiciously like a smile. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced with his "manly face"- chin up, jaw set. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't want it to show.   
"Did we...?" he said quietly. It took Cas a moment to realise what he was asking. He shook his head vehemently. Sam, not noticing this exchange, set his cup on the table and cleared his throat.   
"Dean, we should visit Charlie today."   
"Really? Did you talk to her about it?"   
"Well..." Sam pulled his computer over from the corner of the table and opened it. "I was sort of planning this a couple weeks ago."   
"A couple- Sam, it's only been a couple weeks since we last saw her!" Sam looked a little sheepish at this point.   
"I plan ahead?"  
"Fine, yea, we'll go see her. Cas, you need clean clothes. Come with me." Cas gave his coffee one last look and followed Dean back to his room.   
Without looking at him, Dean threw a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt over his shoulder. Cas caught them and held them out in front of him.   
"Dean, are you sure these will fit me?"   
"They might be a little big, but it's better than that dirty suit." Dean turned around and faced him. Cas suddenly felt at a loss for words, remembering last night and the nights before. He had a distinct feeling that it was something they should discuss, but he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Dean's expression was unreadable.   
"Well, go get changed. We're leaving in ten, and I don't think Charlie wants to see you naked." Cas turned and walked back to his room, sitting down on the bed and pulling off his pants to put on the jeans. Like Dean said they'd be, they were a bit big, but they were worn well and clean. The plaid button up covered his hands to the knuckles and smelled like firewood and some musky cologne. It felt odd wearing Dean's clothes, but in a way, comforted him. Dean was a constant. Right now, that's what Cas needed.   
He met the boys in the car and didn't bother to try for one of the front seats. Sam looked back at him, took in the clothing, and raised his eyebrows. Cas just shrugged.   
They drove for hours, right through the morning and into noon. Cas, still heavy with fatigue, tried for a nap, but was bumped awake along the road every time he came close. Not that he minded all that much. He knew what sleep would bring.   
They pulled into an apartment building parking lot in some unknown city around twelve. Dean parks and they all get out, Sam leading the way, all the way up a flight of stairs to apartment 13. He rang the doorbell and the door swung open a second later. Charlie Bradbury stood wearing a smile.   
"Hey guys!" She noticed Cas, and her smile grew. "And this is... Cas, I'm guessing? Come in, come in, oh god, I had so much to tell you..." They stepped inside and Dean hung up his coat on the rack. It was a small apartment, one she couldn't have been living in for more than a few weeks judging by the boxes piled in the corner, but it already felt like a home. She had posters from movies Cas had never watched up along with shelves lined with memorabilia. Cas instantly knew he liked this Charlie- she was unusual, and, after all, Dean liked her. Anybody Dean could trust, Cas could trust as well.   
"Oh my god, I should have out the water on earlier, just- sit down for a minute, okay?" Cas followed her voice to the crowded kitchen, where the brothers were sitting at a small table and Charlie was hurriedly pouring water into a rusted pot. He eased into one of the empty chairs, noticing how at ease the brothers looked. Cas felt a flick of what might have been jealousy at the thought of them having such a close friend he had never met before. Maybe, he told himself, if you weren't away all the time, you would have already met her. At least he wasn't going anywhere now.   
"So, what's with the new place?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair. Charlie placed the pot on the stove and turned the burner on before answering.   
"Well, I sort of got in trouble at my last job..."  
"What kind of trouble?"  
"My boss threatening arrest for messing with the computers' proxies so that when you traced them, it said we were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." Sam chuckled.   
"Nice." They high fived.   
"So I had to move, again, and this was the only place I could find. I'm out of a job though, and this goddamn-" she tugged at one of the cabinets' handles and it popped off- "apartment is falling apart."   
"Hey, we're always happy to take you in. Plenty of room in the batcave." Cas, sitting next to Sam, heard him mutter, "Not enough for you to sleep in your own room." He froze up. So Sam knew?   
"You're too kind, but I can't. You guys will be busy doing- whatever it is you do. Fighting monsters. I'll be all alone."  
"We'd let you put up your posters?" Sam tried.  
"I appreciate it, but- god, what is wrong with this stove?" The flame had gone out. Apparently, this was a common occurrence. Charlie huffed and moved the pot to the other side of the stove.   
"Do you mind having lukewarm tea?"  
"Well, I don't like tea anyways, but I'll take it," Dean said with a smile. So she poured them each a cup and they drank it without complaining. Conversation was easy with Charlie, easy enough that Cas didn't have to struggle to keep up, apart from the references he didn't understand. But Dean would try his hardest to explain them, despite not getting very far. After a while, Cas gave up on trying to understand and found himself watching Dean once again, the way he lit up when someone brought up an old joke, the way his laugh sounded better than music. Talk carried them far into the afternoon, sitting in front of forgotten mugs and laughing. It was easily one of the best afternoons Cas had experienced on Earth, as he tried not to think about other afternoons elsewhere. He was getting better at forgetting.   
When the sky outside grew too dark, Sam pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "Thanks for having us, but ah, we should really go." Cas followed suit, making sure to push in his chair after he stood. Dean gave her an apologetic smile and stood up with them.   
"Okay... but come back soon?"   
"Of course. But only if you get that stove working."  
"You're too hard on me," she said as they began to walk out. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw her grab Dean's arm and pull him back into the kitchen. Intrigued, he gave Sam the signal to keep walking and stood very still, hoping he was out of their line of sight.   
"Er, Charlie-"  
"So that's Cas, huh?" There was a moment of silence.   
"Yea, that's Cas."  
"Wearing your clothes?"  
"Charlie, I know what you're thinking."  
"Oh, I'm not thinking anything. But if I was-"  
"Thank you so much for having us, Charlie, but we really have to go." Footsteps. Cas quickly slipped out of the apartment and got on the elevator, knowing Dean would take the stairs. He met Sam at the car and sat in his usual seat in the back. Dean joined them a minute later, slamming the door closed behind him and starting the car without saying a word. It was obvious that he was still thinking about what Charlie had said, or rather, implied.   
Cas himself tried to keep his thoughts straight, but they always ended up centred around Dean. And not in a good way. It was very difficult to stare out the window and concentrate on counting all the trees he saw when he kept feeling the ghosts of Dean's hands on him, the sound of his voice so close. Was this normal for humans? To find themselves so wrapped up in another person that they could barely function? He knew the answer and he knew their word for it, but that above all was something he'd rather not think about.   
It was a mostly silent ride, the only sound being Dean's Led Zeppelin CD playing. This time, nobody sang along. Cas was growing to appreciate this kind of music, classic rock. It fit the car, the brothers, everything.   
They parked outside of the bunker and headed inside in almost complete dark. Cas had the good sense to trail behind and avoid conversation. He almost made it to his bedroom, but he was stopped at the doorway by Dean. He was leaning against the door, his hand gripping the back of his neck the way Cas knew meant he had something on his mind.   
"Yes, Dean?"  
"I... just- sleep well, that's all." Cas nodded slowly and moved past him into his room. He tried not to pay attention to Dean lingering in the doorway for a moment, then leaving and closing the door behind him. Cas didn't bother with turning on the light, he simply laid down without changing out of Dean's clothes and pulled the covers over him.   
Of course he had expected trouble sleeping, he always did. But this time it wasn't nightmares haunting him, it was Dean. Dean and the way his eyes shined when he talked about something he loved, Dean singing along to songs about love and drugs and sex, Dean's arms around him. Cas didn't know which was worse- this or nightmares.   
It took him three hours to fall asleep. Too many times he would try to shake the thoughts away and sleep, but he would always end up with his eyes glued to the ceiling and his mind stuck. Maybe it didn't help that he was still wearing Dean's clothes, the ones that carried his scent and were the closest thing he had to him.   
He wondered if Dean minded.   
When he finally fell asleep, it was the best he'd slept in days. No horrific dreams, no pleading siblings. No dreams that he could remember.   
Cas woke up far after the sun came up, but it felt like he hasn't even slept. How was it that he could sleep for so long and end up just as tired as before? Still sluggish with sleep, he pulled himself out of bed and straight to the tiny bathroom.   
The first thing he realised was the long pillow crease running down his left cheek. He tried to smooth it out, to no avail. Sighing, Cas brushed his teeth and headed out to his bedroom door.   
When he opened it, he nearly fell over in surprise. Dean was sitting against the wall, sound asleep in sweatpants and a t shirt. Had he been there all night?  
Cas slowly slid down to sit on the other side of the doorway, his legs intertwining with Dean's. Truthfully, he wanted to just sit and watch him for a few more minutes, but there was something he had to do. He leaned forward and poked Dean's cheek, hoping to wake him. When it didn't work, he poked him a bit harder. Dean's eyelids fluttered, then opened, widening at the site of Cas looking intently at him.   
"God, I thought I had gone back to my room- I'm sorry, I must look like a real creep, I swear I wasn't-"  
"Did you sleep out there?" Dean was silent for a moment, then sighed.   
"Yea." Cas held out his hand. Dean took it, and Cas helped him up.   
"Why?"  
"Because- shit, I don't know. I get worried thinking you're having nightmares and I'm not around." Now that they were face to face, Cas could tell Dean was thinking could have shot himself for opening his mouth.   
"Dean... it's fine. I was fine last night." Dean nodded quickly, gave one of his "thanks for everything but I have to get out of here" smiles, and started to walk away. But Cas couldn't just let him walk away. He grabbed his arm and pulled him back and right up against the wall. Dean still looked scared, but there was something else under it.   
"Cas, what are you-"  
"Thank you. For looking out for me- I am a bit useless nowadays, after all."   
"Yea, of course," Dean breathed, squirming. But Cas just leaned in closer.   
"Dean, I want you to stand still for a moment."  
"Why?"  
"So I can so this." Before he could lose his confidence, Cas leaned in the rest of the way and kissed him. Within seconds, Dean's hands with around his waist and pulling him closer. He could taste the faint burn of alcohol and his unshaven cheeks scratched, but Cas didn't care. He finally understood the best part of being human.   
The were interrupted just a minute later by the sound of clapping. Startled, they broke apart, Dean's hands lingering on Cas's waist. Sam was standing a little ways down the hallway, clapping slowly and grinning.   
"It's about time."   
"We-" Cas had to clear his throat, his voice was rough and he was a bit out of breath- "we were just-"  
"No need to explain, Cas. I'm fine with it." He turned and started to walk back down the hallway, then he turned around and yelled, "Just try not to do it in the living room, okay? We eat there."   
"Dean, what's he talking about?"  
"Nothing, Cas. Let me get dressed and we'll talk, okay?"   
"Okay." Dean smiled, for real this time, and his hands finally slid off Cas's waist and into his pockets. Cas watched him walk off, not moving at all. He felt light and happy and far too emotional for ten in the morning.   
When Dean emerged, fully dressed and wearing that soft leather jacket, Cas couldn't help it. He reached out and pulled Dean back into him by his hips, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.   
Forget nightmares, they couldn't touch him anymore. He had his own guardian angel.


End file.
